


Fire and Ice

by inkheart9459



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkheart9459/pseuds/inkheart9459
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many things in the world that Miranda hates, freesias, uninspired designs, and most of all people flirting with her wife and having the audacity to touch her as if they were worthy of Andrea's perfection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> anon tumblr prompt: "Miranda gets jealous and over protective when she sees Andy, who is feeling alone and distant from a constantly busy Miranda, being hit on and flirting with some dude. they have a huge fight over it that is witnessed by their youngest children, when the twins were sposed to be babysitting. Mirandy has to do damage control with their kids and their relationship." Enjoy guys.

Miranda should have expected it, after all it happened with all her other spouses, why not Andrea as well? She watched her across the room as some idiotic man flirted with her wife. How dare he? There was no one in this city who did not know that she and Andrea were together. The media storm after their coming out had been enough to ensure that. If she wasn’t in a ballroom full of people she would go over there and murder the man whose eyes were firmly fixed on her wife’s breasts.

Andrea, for her part either wasn’t paying attention or wasn’t caring that there was a man ogling her quite blatantly. Why in the world would she even give a man like that the time of day? He wasn’t even anyone important, at least Miranda could see it then, flaunting her…better assets in order to get another freelance article under her belt so she could finally leave that rag of a publication she insisted on working at despite Miranda’s continued insistence that she need do no such thing, that she could easily quit and use Miranda’s contacts to provide her with all the stories she could ever need. In a way Miranda respected that Andrea wanted to do it on her own, and at the same time it frustrated her to no end. What good was having power if it couldn’t be used to benefit those you loved?

Miranda saw red as the man slipped her arm around Andrea’s shoulders. Now it didn’t matter if she was in the middle of a rather important social function. She was going to have that man for dinner and before she was done with him he was going to wish he had never been born. She excused herself from her conversations partners who she hasn’t been listening to anyway and strode across the room with her normal regal grace. She easily avoided anyone who looked as if they were about to flag her down and ended up at Andrea’s side a minute later.

“Darling, how’s your night going so far? I know it’s been quite a bit longer than I usually stay at such functions.” She smiled fakely at the man. “And who is your lovely conversation partner.” Her tone was ice daggers, shooting straight for his most sensitive areas.

“Manuel, this is my wife, Miranda Priestly. Funnily enough we were just talking about you. Manuel is a fan of yours, loves the work that you do at Runway, and your dedication to always being there.” Andrea’s smile had turned strained since Miranda had appeared. Miranda would worry about such things later, for now she had to get this horrible man away from her wife.

“Ah, I’m always ever so glad to meet a fan. Tell me, how did a man such as yourself come to admire fashion.” Her smile was now the one she was sure sharks used when they sensed blood in the water.

When he spoke up he had a slight accent, thought Miranda could tell from where exactly. He’d probably lived in a few places growing up to have such an odd accent, something fused with Spanish and French and a little bit of something Miranda didn’t quite know. She hated the accent instantly.

“I’m an amateur designer. Nothing spectacular, mostly just things I create for myself. Runway is a great magazine, always so new and so fresh with the content it features. I often use it as inspiration.”

Miranda hated the man in front of her even more in that moment. Amateur designers were of course where the talent she fostered originated, but they always wanted something from Miranda, always. The very few she sponsored did not seek her out, but climbed their way up as she did, and when Miranda came to see their work treated her as a blessing, now some kind of twisted meal ticket. The fawning was still annoying nonetheless, but at least they had earned the right.

And if she had to guess this man in front of her had approached Andrea because he knew that eventually Miranda would be around. She wanted to reach out and rip his throat out. It was one thing to approach her like she owed him something and it was another thing entirely to use her wife for such things.

“How very…quaint.” She pursed her lips and anyone worth their salt in the fashion world knew exactly what that meant.

The fact that the man didn’t even flinch told her a great deal about him. He was someone who thought designing clothes was something on did in their off time, a leisure activity, nothing like art that could steal a person’s breath and make them ache for more. He was one of those who hopped on the train with vile shows like Project Runway and whatever other trash there was out there now. He thought he was talented, thought he deserved more and Miranda would have no problem telling him otherwise.

Andrea, however, did know the look her wife was giving Manuel. “Honey, I thought you had a great deal of people to talk with that this function. You can’t talk to them if you’re here talking with me and Manuel.”

“I’ve addressed the most important people.” And she had, when she was on a mission she was brutally efficient, even when it was smoozing at parties.

Andrea huffed. “And surely there were a few less important people on that list, _dear_.” The term of endearment sounded more like a knife blade.

Miranda waved her off. “They can wait their turn as everyone else does. I will speak to them eventually. And perhaps since I’m rather done with my business here it’s time to go home.”

Manuel was just finally starting to realize that something rather above his ridiculously low intelligence was happening between the two women in front of him. Miranda wondered if he had trouble breathing and walking at the same time with how long it took him to sense the tension between Andrea and herself. Then again men always were quite dense. She had relied on that fact many a times in her former marriages.

“Um, well, it was nice meeting you, Miranda, I really do love your work, and it was lovely talking to you, Andy. I’ll leave you two to it then.” Manuel bowed out as gracefully as he could and hurried from their side.

Andrea glared at Miranda. “Perhaps we should go.” Her voice was cold and Miranda knew that she was probably in for an interesting night when they got home but she didn’t care. As long as that man was away from her wife everything would be just fine.

Miranda nodded and texted Roy to be out front in five minutes. Andrea had already stalked off to the coat check by the time she was done. Miranda rolled her eyes at the dramatics and walked off after her.

Soon enough they were ensconced in the warm back seat of the Benz. And while the temperature itself was warm, the atmosphere was still icy. If Andrea was going to be immature and not talk to her the whole ride then she might as well get some work done. She pulled up her emails on her phone and started to tap out replies to the ones that merited them. Andrea from her side of the car just snorted and rolled her eyes and looked out the window, more like glared out the window. Miranda looked up at her for a few seconds but went right back to answering her emails. She didn’t understand what was wrong with the woman.

When they pulled up outside the townhouse Andrea didn’t wait for Roy to open her door, she was out in a second, stalking up the stairs and fumbling the keys to the front door out of her tiny little clutch that she had brought to the function. Miranda followed once more at a sedate pace. With the way Andrea was acting she would accost her as soon as she shut the door behind her. The girl always had been rather fiery, it was one of the things she had originally fallen in love with. Now, however, it always seemed to work against her.

She climbed the stairs to the townhouse, shut the door, and went to put her coat in the closet. When she emerged Andrea was standing there, face twisted in an expression of barely controlled anger. Miranda swallowed. Andrea so very rarely got angry, but when she did it was rather frightening even to her, the one that had faced down entire boardrooms of men with more power in their little fingers than Andrea could ever hope to imagine.

“What the hell was that?” Andrea stalked closer to her, just out of arms reach now. “I was having a perfectly pleasant conversation and what? You just took offense that I was maybe having fun at a party?”

Miranda snorted. “Of course not, darling. But you have to realize that that man, if that’s even what he can be called, was blatantly staring at your breasts and by body language alone I could tell he was flirting with you.” She placed her own clutch on the table beside the closet and stepped out of her heels. It always was nice to take them off first thing.

“So?” Andrea cocked an eyebrow.

“So? So? Andrea, you are my wife. He was hitting on you. I have no interest in seeing such things. Everyone in this city knows you are mine. To hit on you either means he was suicidal or wanted my attention.”

“And it can’t just be because I’m a beautiful woman and he wanted to talk to me because he found me interesting? It can’t be that at all? It always has to be about you?” Andrea’s voice was rising now.

Miranda glanced up the stairs. She hoped that the twins were keeping to their promise of watching their little sister. Hopefully they were ensconced in the game room playing something mind rotting on one of their game systems, or perhaps watching some ridiculous cartoon movie. Anything so they wouldn’t witness this.

“No, it doesn’t always have to be about me, but I am a very powerful woman, Andrea. A great many people want something from me and will use any means to get it. If that means is you then if they are low enough they will use you.”

“Right,” Andrea threw up her hands and walked towards the first floor study. “Because no one can just be a nice person without any motives at all besides nice conversation.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you want. He may not have wanted anything from me, but even if he didn’t, he surely wanted something from you.” Miranda followed after her to see Andrea pouring herself a healthy measure of scotch. She downed about half of it in one gulp.

“And your point? So what if he wanted to fuck me, Miranda, I wasn’t exactly giving him any signals that I wanted to. I was barely even flirting with him but he stuck around anyway.”

“Why were you even flirting with him at all?” Miranda’s fists clenched at her side. This was how every single one of her marriages had ended so far. She had ceased to be enough and her spouses had moved on once they found someone newer and better than she was. An ache started in her stomach, weighing on her like lead.

“I said I was barely flirting, for a man barely flirting consists of being fucking nice to him!” Andrea yelled. She took a deep breath before downing the rest of her drink and pouring herself another. “God damn it, Miranda, don’t you trust me? I’m not going to sleep with anyone else and I’m not even going to make anyone think that I am. So he was staring at me and flirting with me, so what? Have you seen this dress? It’s a miracle half the god damn room wasn’t staring at my boobs. Hell, everyone in that room looked at me for an extended period of time at some point before turning away, except for one person and that was you!”

Miranda opened her mouth to protest, but Andrea wouldn’t let her. She kept up her tirade.

“Just like everything else you went to work and ignored me, didn’t even ask me if I wanted to come around with you while you talked to whoever in the room had the biggest fucking dick and deepest fucking pockets. It’s been like this for months now and damn it I know who I married, but it’s been fucking worse than normal. I don’t mind you being busy, I don’t mind you putting the girls first because that’s how it should be, but when is the last time you’ve spoke to me, the last time you really spoke to me without picking up a god damn phone and yelling out orders or answering an email? When? I know you aren’t any busier than normal, it’s not like Runway has changed all that much since I left years ago. I know your work level and you used to make time for me, just me, in your hectic schedule and now you don’t even try.”

Tears were running down the girls face now as more and more alcohol made its way into her system. Miranda kept trying to reach out for her but she didn’t know what to do. She was helpless and she was angry and everything within her was telling her to lash out at Andrea, but she held herself back.

“God, are you getting bored with me, is that it? Don’t want to be married to me anymore but don’t want to divorce me and put the twins and Aliyah through that? Because that’s what it fucking seems like. I don’t even fucking remember when the last time was that you did something romantic, hell, I don’t even remember when the last time you honest to god flirted with me. Maybe you’re the ice queen everyone fucking says you are because it sure seems like you’ve frozen me out and you never even bothered to tell me.”

Something in Miranda broke at that. She felt her face relax into that dangerously calm mask that scared the living hell out of everyone at Runway. Her postured straightened, her chin arched up, no one would be able to tell that she was barely over five foot five, she towered over everything in the room in mere presence alone.

“And why is it, Andrea, that instead of coming to me with these concerns and talking them out as real, married, adults should, that you chose this moment to shout them at me at the top of your lungs while disparaging my character? Are you not an adult? I’d expect this behavior from the twins, they are sixteen after all and everything seems to be the end of the world to them, but I thought you were a little bit past that. Or have you been permanently stuck at that age and I’ve just been too naive to notice?”

Andrea’s anger was always fire and Miranda’s was always ice. They never mixed well. When they fought and both of them yelled, it was one thing, something they knew they would recover from. But like this, when they argued like this, fire and ice, it was world ending. The few times they had almost ended their relationship it had all started like this. But Miranda was far past caring at this point.

She stalked forward and took the glass out of Andrea’s hand. She set it down so very gently on the bar beside her. “Instead of coming to me with these concerns you let a man ogle you with no consequences and continued talking with him, for what end, to get some of the attention you felt you were lacking from me? And now you’re yelling and getting yourself drunk. How very mature of you, Andrea, I do applaud you.”

Andrea snatched up her glass again and stepped even further into Miranda’s space, looming over her, still in her heels from the night. “Oh yeah, and you’re so very fucking mature, Miranda. You’re the god damn definition of a drama queen and a workaholic. You enjoy bending people to your will and then get angry when they don’t want to and fire them. Because that’s so fucking adult of you, don’t you deserve an award? God, why the fucking hell did I even marry you? I must have been fucking insane. You’re a fucking bitch and I knew it and yet here we fucking are.”

“I’m beginning to wonder the same thing, _darling_.” And just as Andrea had at the party, the endearment was meant as anything but.

“Mommy? Momma?” A small voice asked.

Both her and Andrea whipped around to find Aliyah standing at the door, clutching the stuffed rabbit she always carried around to her chest. Miranda instantly melted again, walking towards the door of the study in careful, measure steps.

“Yes, baby?” She kneeled down in front of the girl, fighting her gown to get down.

“Why are you and Momma yelling at each other?” She looked between her and Andrea again with fearful eyes.

Miranda reached out and stroked her hair gently. It was more all over the place than normal, the dark curls fluffing out even more. They had yelled so loudly that they had probably woken her up. Miranda swallowed and looked back at Andrea.

Andrea was right behind her, having rushed to their little girl without thought, still having her glass in her hand. Miranda’s gaze brought her back to herself. She walked a step backwards and put the glass down before kneeling beside Miranda.

Miranda heard the twins on the stairs, creeping down carefully. She swallowed hard. If they’d been loud enough to wake Aliyah then surely the girls would have heard them too. Oh, this wasn’t good. The other times they had fought like this they had made sure that the girls wouldn’t hear a thing, they had been careful even in their anger. They didn’t want anyone in their family to worry. But tonight everything had been far too volatile.

The twins appeared behind Aliyah, drawling the little girl back from Miranda’s touch. Miranda felt a great deal of pain at that gesture. Her own children were protecting their sister from her. The girls had always been protective of Aliyah, when they had adopted the girl two years ago the twins had helped her adjust to each and every change. They had reassured her just as much as Andrea and herself had. Now two years later and nothing had changed except that Aliyah was seven instead of five.

Caroline patted down Aliyah’s hair almost on impulse. “We’re sorry, we didn’t know she had woken up. We’ll, uh, leave you guys to talk.”

They all turned to leave but Miranda stopped them. “No, girls, stay.”

The twins turned around, Aliyah still behind them, each of her tiny dark skinned hands clutched in one of twins. Miranda looked at Andrea. Andrea’s eyes were so very hurt and so very fearful. Miranda reached out tentatively. Andrea looked at her for a long moment and took her hand.

They sat there together on the floor while the girls came back to the entrance of the room.

“We’re sorry that you both had to overhear that just now.” Miranda looked at Andrea who nodded her confirmation.

“And we aren’t going to pretend like it didn’t happen, or that it probably wasn’t scary for you guys to overhear and that an apology will just magically make that go away,” Andrea added.

“Obviously, your mother and I have a few things to talk about that we have kept to ourselves to the point of it boiling over in an argument. Arguments do happen, dear ones, between anyone, especially married people, but that doesn’t mean that they have to have unfortunate endings.”

Aliyah had managed to push between the twins again and was staring at her mothers with a slightly less frightened look, but Miranda could still see it there. It was almost like when they had brought her back from the orphanage for the first time. They had met her a thousand different times during the adoption process, but being in a new place had scared her at the same time as she had felt safe with Andrea and herself.

“The people involved in the argument just have to want to work things out, which might take a while, and sometimes it doesn’t all work out, but that’s how life is sometimes. Do you guys understand?” Andrea looked at their daughters with her wide brown eyes, begging them to say yes.

Caroline and Cassidy nodded slowly. They didn’t say anything more, but kept looking between Miranda and Andrea as if they were a bomb that was about to go off even after what they had said. Miranda didn’t blame them, they had been around for every single one of her divorces and they had always started with fights and yelling just like the one that had just happened.

Aliyah nodded as well, but she walked forward and threw herself between her mothers, wrapping an arm around each of their necks and pulling them together. Miranda hugged her back just as hard. When she pulled back Andrea cupped her face.

“It’s late, sweetie, go back to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning, ok?”

She nodded and walked back to Caroline and Cassidy, who with one more wary look went off down the hallway and back upstairs.

Left alone again Miranda looked at Andrea carefully. Had what she been saying earlier been true, had Miranda really stopped spending time with Andrea, stopped doing the romantic things she had never been really good at but tried nonetheless? She looked back through her memory. All she could remember recently was work and the girls. Andrea was there, of course, but there was nothing really there besides when they were together with the girls or sleeping.

“I’m sorry,” Miranda finally said after a long moment. “You were right. I haven’t been spending time with you. I hadn’t even realized it. But that doesn’t change that you didn’t come to me with this concern and doesn’t change all the things you said to me. Andrea, you know…” she trailed off, not quite able to put everything into words. Feelings weren’t her forte. That’s where Andrea truly came in.

Andrea looked away from her. “I know. I wanted you to hurt like I have been recently. It was stupid, but it’s what I wanted.”

“Nothing is stupid, Andrea. Your feelings are just as valid as mine.”

They looked at each other for a few long moments.

“Miranda, what are we going to do?”

Miranda looked around her study. They were still on the floor together, Andrea’s glass of scotch was on the table still. It was like everything had shifted on its axis, but everything was still the same.

“I honestly don’t know. I just know that there are things here that need fixed but I don’t know where to start. I never have.”

Andrea pushed herself off the floor and grabbed her glass of scotch again. She went over to the bar, picked up another glass and filled it and hers to the brim. She walked back over to Miranda again and sank down in the exact same position in the doorway of the study.

“Well, I can’t say for certain that this will work, but they always say talking helps. Why don’t we start there?” Andrea handed her the glass of scotch. “And maybe this will make it easier.”

Miranda accepted the glass and took a drink, savoring the burn. She always missed the burn when she was drinking those fruity little cocktails they served at parties. Champagne was tolerable, but she had always preferred hard liquor.

“And what if talking doesn’t work?” Miranda asked, voice small.

“Well, you once told me that I was an amazing woman with a good head on my shoulders, and you yourself have a good head on your shoulders. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

Miranda held up her glass to that and Andrea clinked hers to it gently. Miranda hoped desperately that this wasn’t the last amicable drink they shared together. But for that eventuality to happen…

She looked over at Andrea. It would take what it did, she supposed.


End file.
